


Sense(ate) Focus

by livingvakariouslythroughyou (supercow585)



Series: How To Reconcile [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Blindfolds, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Porn With Plot, Slow Burn, Smut, karedevil - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 07:58:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9375563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supercow585/pseuds/livingvakariouslythroughyou
Summary: Karen is curious about how Matt's senses affect his experience in the bedroom. Matt decides to try to show her rather than tell her. Part of the How to Reconcile series.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo, here's 8000+ words of smut. Oops. This idea just wormed its way into my brain and wouldn't let go. Kind of a slow burn. I guess (since it takes about 8000+ words to really get down to business). 
> 
> Title is a play off of exercises often used in couples therapy which are actually called sensate focus exercises. They were created by Masters and Johnson to assist couples with sexual dysfunction by increasing self awareness of sexual needs and improving communication about them. I didn't include any actual exercises in the story, just liked the reference for the title. Be warned- this is my first try at smut, so hopefully it isn't awful. I'm open to constructive criticism. 
> 
> Set after Alternative Dispute Resolution & Integrative Negotiations in the How to Reconcile series. You don't necessarily have to read those to understand what's going on here, though.

It’s early in their… reconciliation (they have been carefully dancing around the term “relationship”, playing their own little game of chicken with neither willing to frighten the other by bringing it up too soon) when something occurs to her. It happens as he is reverently laying her down on his bed (which they have begun to share more frequently, official relationship or not), the last of their clothes falling to the floor. He is kissing her softly with a slowly increasing intensity when she hears him moan a gentle sigh. It's faint but it sounds so content and so tender that it spurs her curiosity enough to shift her focus away from him and his insistent lips.

He pulls back almost immediately, having sensed her sudden hesitance, and cradles the side of her face with his hand, his brows pinching in concern. He sits up and gently pulls her up with him, his gaze laser-like in its consistency, even if it's barely below her eyes, hitting more at her cheek and nose level.

“What’s wrong? I didn't mean to presume … Look, Karen, I know we're still working through things but please tell me what's bothering you. I want to do whatever I can to fix it.”

His thumb is ghosting along her cheekbone, lightly tracing the gentle curve with a tenderness that steals her breath and, if she's being honest, terrifies her in its sincerity. She leans into his hand and covers it with her own as she hurries to calm his racing thoughts.

He has a tendency to spiral into negative territory with a speed rivaled only by Daredevil’s own. Some of that is to be expected given the last few months, and she has done her fair share of stoking a number of his fears and his shame, but she feels like it's probably time to let up. After all, she isn't Catholic but she has learned that there is a difference between penance and retribution. She knows he's sorry and doesn't want to make him suffer… at least not anymore.

She leans her forehead into his as she saves him from himself. “No, it's nothing like that. I just… thought of another question.” She bites her lip at that and looks a little sheepish, though it's for her own benefit more than his since he hears it in her voice and feels the slight and sudden heat on her cheeks as she blushes.

He chuckles, smiling sweetly at her. Karen Page has always been a force of nature- relentless in her curiosity, an insatiable intellect, incessant in questioning everything and anything around her. He would expect nothing less from her, especially given their recent arrangement.

It's simple enough in theory, though it is sometimes difficult to bear out. It is an unwritten and generally unspoken agreement between them, but respected nonetheless. It works like this- she asks him any question she has, whenever she desires, and he does all in his power to give her the most honest answer he can, no matter how difficult it is. He has grown accustomed to being interrupted by her queries whenever they occur to her, no matter how odd or unfortunate the timing.

It had started as a way to try to help her gather information- to try to find her footing in the chaos his revelation had unleashed in her mind. But it transformed into something more important with each query, becoming a way to build some kind of a foundation between them upon which to try to move forward. He has been open and gracious all along the way, thankful for anything from her that is not outright hate or rejection. He knows he deserves much worse than that but he's endlessly thankful for her mercy. And it seems like the very least he can do for her at this point.

“What would you like to know? I’m an open book.” His smirk communicates his chagrin and acknowledgement of the absurdity of such a statement- at least until lately. She laughs softly in response and gives an answering smirk.

But the question doesn't come out as easily as she had hoped. She bites her lip as she tries to find the right words. He is patient, his thumb continuing its gentle path along her cheek and it helps to ground her. She takes a deep breath and decides to charge ahead before she completely loses her nerve.

“Well, I just started to wonder… what is it like for you, being with me?”

He cocks his head in that distinctly Matt Murdock way, and opens his mouth to respond only to close it moments later when he realizes that the question is deceptive in its simplicity. There is so much to say and he doesn't know where to start or what she hopes to learn from him by asking. His look must be imploring because suddenly she is speaking again, coming to his aid and attempting to clarify her intention.

“I mean, what is it like for you when you're with me, here- like this. When we’re … together.”

The combination of her softer and more hesitant tone, blush that breaks out on her cheeks, her suddenly racing heart, and the gentle but firm caress of her hand in a line down his body from chin to navel as she speaks helps him to understand what her words leave unsaid.

He suppresses a shiver as his own heart rate spikes in turn at the beauty of the question and the way it is so unexpected. But then again, she has always surprised him, and she continues not to disappoint.

His face is intent as he considers his answer. As he thinks, he gently but insistently trails his own hand down her body, leaving the soft expanse of her cheek to trace her long and elegant neck, her delicate collarbones, the valley between her breasts, all the way down to her own navel. She can't help the way she trembles at his touch.

"I think it might be easier if I show you..."

He is looking directly at her now, his eyes at just the right angle with an intensity in his expression that sets her blood aflame, and for a moment she almost believes that he really sees her. She stays stock still, soaking in the delicious tension that is building between them as he reaches over to his bedside table and takes something out of a drawer, his gaze never wavering from hers. She is so intent on his face, the growing look of desire there, that she doesn't look down to see what it is that he is holding until he whispers his request to her.

“May I?"

She finally tears her eyes away from his to look down at what he holds in his hands.

It's a strip of red satin, delicate and inviting, and just wide enough to...

Understanding dawns on her and sets off spikes of adrenaline and desire in its wake. He means to blindfold her. The thought registers in her mind, and she finds herself slipping into a blissful free fall as her she begins to imagine all of the possibilities of what could be coming next.

She nods her head slightly before remembering she should give him a verbal response. She doesn't trust her voice right now, so she whispers, so low that without his super senses, he most likely would not have understood her.

“Yes. Please.”

The grin he gives at her assent is dazzling with enough of an edge of hunger that she feels her heart flutter. As he brings the fabric up to her face and gently ties it around her head, she can't help her nervous chuckle.

He gently eases her back down to the bed and cages himself around her. He is back to tracing her face, her neck, her clavicle with teasingly light touches, and she fights a losing battle of suppressing the shudders her traitorous body is making in his wake. He only hums in response, a satisfied and warm sound, as he nuzzles his head against hers, pressing soft kisses to her temple.

“When you take sight out of the equation, there is a unique and intense kind of anticipation that accompanies… intimate interactions. Even without my senses that's true, and I would love to illustrate that point to you. I'll do the best I can at explaining all the rest- the extra sensory input that I am privy to- but I’m hoping that this will help you to feel a bit of what it's like, or give you an impression of it, anyway. Would you like to give it a try?”

She knows (or is beginning to know) that he can hear her heart beating at a rapid-fire pace and that he can also probably sense all the other ways her body is already saying yes, but the way that he continues to ask- the fact that he wants to hear her say it, wants to know it the way he would if he were only as aware as she is thrills her almost as much as what he is proposing.

Her voice this time is sure, weighted with a sudden power and sensuality she didn't know she possessed but is eternally thankful for. “Show me.”

His answering hum is almost feral- like a growl- and she knows she is done for but can't find it in her to mind.

He starts methodically at her head, narrating his thoughts as he moves himself languorously down her body, teasing her all the while.

“I can always smell your shampoo, even before you even enter the room- a mix of coconut and pineapple with a hint of mango. It's stronger than the scent of the lavender and lilac body wash that lingers on your skin, but no less pleasant.” He skims feather light touches down her arm with one hand and she has to fight to keep her breathing even.”

He continues, his other hand playing with her hair. “I can feel your hair, feel each of the thousands of soft and silken strands that sound like tiny bow strings when they rub together.”

He has been trailing kisses along her hairline, and continues down to lightly nip behind her ear. She lets out a sigh that is bordering on a gasp, spurring him on with his narration.

“I can hear the blood rushing through your carotid artery, can feel it pulsing under your skin. It's rushing rather rapidly right now.” He plants an open mouthed kiss, with just enough teeth to make her hum in satisfaction, directly over the part of her neck in question.

Heat sparks low in her belly and travels up her veins in response. He trails open mouthed kisses down her left clavicle to her sternum, them up the right one before he turns his head so that his ear is resting on the left side of her chest.

“I can hear the air rushing in and out of your lungs, faster and faster the more I keep teasing you. I can hear each beat of your heart, the distinct two-part sound that makes up your own unique rhythm. I'd know the sound anywhere.”

She lets out a huff of a laugh to hide a gasp at that, tilting her head back, and he presses another kiss- open mouthed and full of tongue and teeth- to the underside of her throat.

“I can feel the vibrations of your vocal chords, can hear the intricacies and variations in pitch and tone depending on the amount air that rushes through them and how much they open and stretch.”

She squirms under his attentions, circling him with her arms and twining one hand up his neck and threading her fingers through his hair. He presses his body more fully to hers, aligning them from toe to head and soaking her in.

“I can feel your warmth- not just the flush of your skin, or the sweat beginning to bead in your pores, but… the fire inside of you, raging hotter and hotter every time I touch you.”

She can’t help but roll her hips up at him then, at the way that he seems to be inhabiting her skin, knowing exactly how he makes her feel and anticipating what she wants next before she knows she wants it.

He is traveling down her abdomen now, coming closer and closer to the source of the fire that he so eloquently described and she is almost shaking with anticipation.

It seems to be getting to him too because he is going faster now, a little less reserve in his movements, his voice turning more ragged. “I can taste the adrenaline in the air as it seeps from your pores, taste the salt of your skin, smell the scent of your arousal, feel your-”

“Wait, smell my a--- you can … smell me?”

Everything stops for her at this revelation, all the heat and desire of moments earlier suddenly freezing over, blocked out by fear, a very real fear- so strong she can almost taste it, super senses be damned. It's a fear that is overwhelming in its intensity, fear of insecurity and rejection that she hasn’t felt so acutely since she was in high school.

He catches the spike of her adrenaline immediately but can tell that this time it is borne of something other than desire. She moves to pull away from him, but he hurries to gather her hands and bring them to his mouth, shushing her softly and pressing reverent kisses across her knuckles in an attempt to ease her sudden self-consciousness.

She stills at this and tilts her head up as though seeking him out, desperate in her need to be reassured. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to her mouth before explaining.

“Well, yes, I can. But please don’t misunderstand- it's not a bad thing, and it's nothing to be ashamed of. It's a completely natural reaction. I don't mind it at all. Actually, I, uh … enjoy it, because it means I’m doing something right. Something you like. And it tells me how much you want me.” His voice is a delicious whisper by the end, tickling her ear and making her want to gasp at how that was precisely the right thing to say to get her heartbeat racing again.

She tries to fake a laugh, still a bit embarrassed but, against her better judgement and at the slow drag of his hands up her arms as he softly settles them back on the bed, then down her chest, she is becoming increasingly less so. He breathes his own sign of relief as he feels the tension bleeding from her body exponentially with each touch. He chuckles lightly as her cheeks flush anew. Her stomach decides to do some gymnastics at the sound.

He leans down to kiss her once more, and the softness of moments before transforms into an insistence, a hunger that is well on it's way to lighting her up again, particularly as he begins to trail his lips down her neck and down her chest. He stops only to take a breath then continues on, his lips closing around a nipple. She arches into him and he hums his approval as he leans to her give her other nipple the same treatment.

“That's my girl.”

She gaps at the endearment, the way its possessive without being restrictive, and allows the rest of her reservations to slip away as he starts up a new line of kisses down her abdomen.

“Oh, you smell so good, Karen. Tantalizing, musky and earthy. It's heady…”  
  
She feels his breath on her pubic bone one moment and stars appear behind her eyes the next as his tongue trails up and down her labia several times before delving into her in one quick motion. Their groans are in tandem, and the vibration of his travels up her spine, causing her hands to fly to his back and shoulders to keep her from losing her sense of reality any more than she already has as her blood dissolves into pure, liquid heat.

“And you taste even better. Partly tart and tangy, a bit metallic, but also something almost sweet, intoxicating… distinctly you.”

He has traveled back up her body and is kissing her passionately before she has time to reorient herself. But just as she is coherent enough to really kiss him back, he’s pulling away from her.

“And now it's your turn.”

He shifts off of her and presses up against her right side, still caressing her arm and nuzzling her neck but no longer caging her in.

She is unprepared for the sudden distance between them. Even though it's really just a few inches, it feels like miles when only moments before she was surrounded by him on all sides, mesmerized by his litany of praises, and on the way to what she was sure would have been the best orgasm of her life.

She waits for a minute, trying to get her brain to come back online long enough to put together a thought other than _Why the hell did you stop?!_ but she comes up blank. She sucks in a deep breath, counts down from 10 as she exhales and is finally able to respond.

“My turn?” She hopes it doesn't sound quite as much like a whine as she fears it does, but when he chuckles and kisses her softly, she doesn't think she's managed it. But he doesn't seem to mind.

“Of course. This isn't just about me telling you my experience. It's also about you experiencing it for yourself, as much as you can. And describing it to me. In detail.” He is kissing her again, having seemed to lose a bit of his own patience at the idea of what he's asking her to do, and it turns more feverish every second that it lasts. She has to expend an inexorable amount of willpower not to let her brain turn off again.

When he finally lets her come up for air, he’s panting too, and presses his forehead to hers until he catches his breath. He threads his fingers through her hair, gently massaging her scalp, but does little else. She feels him waiting expectantly for her to begin, but she has absolutely no idea how. She tests her voice, clearing her throat, then moves a hand up to hold the one of his that is currently massaging her head, craving some kind of physical support from him.

“So, uh, how should I start?”

She hears him chuckle softly, right by her ear, then he gives her one more kiss. “You tell me. Don't over think it. Just… what do you notice?”

She blows out a breath, steadying herself and turns her focus to her body and the sensations that she is having. She notices herself licking her lips and becomes aware of the taste there that he left behind a moment before.

“Well, I, uh- taste you, from that last kiss.”

He hums his approval, and she notices he is back to hovering by her ear. “And what do you taste, specifically?”

He kisses her once more in order to refresh her memory.

It works. It also makes her voice sound a little shaky initially, but she finds more strength as she goes.

“Well, uh- you. The specific way you taste- slightly metallic, like iron, since you always seem to have a split lip these days, and you're too enthusiastic with your affection to let them heal.”

He chuckles and rests his face in the crook of her neck before encouraging her to continue. “Guilty as charged. Anything else?”

She hesitates for a minute, rolling her tongue around in her mouth to ensure she isn't missing anything and-

She feels another blush begin creeping up her skin as she notices the hint of something that she couldn't place initially, but now understands.

“Well, yeah. Something faint, but a bit tart- like you said … I think I tasted myself on your tongue.”

The sharp intake of breath that he takes as she says it is glorious and she smirks, proud of herself for catching on to his game.

He goes back to kissing her neck, returning to the spot he visited earlier when he was talking about her carotid. She knows it is probably rushing even faster now and has a fleeting thought about how her blood pressure must be absolutely terrible when she is around him.

“Good. What else? What other things do you sense?”

He speaks it into the skin of her neck while teasing her ear with the tip of his nose.

She reflexively clenches her eyes shut to try to keep from losing focus though it does little for her under the blindfold. But she is able to concentrate enough to answer him.

“I can feel your stubble on my neck as you kiss. I can feel your breath on my skin. I mean, yes I can feel the movement of it as you exhale, but… it’s also warmer than the other air I can feel.

This time his answering hum is contemplative, maybe even surprised. “You're a quick study, Ms. Page. Please, continue. Dazzle me.”

Of course as he says this, he just has to tease her some more. This time it's in how he gently drags his fingernails across her rib cage and under her breasts while pressing kisses up and down her sternum.

She finds herself squirming, simultaneously wanting more and less of those kinds of touches- more because she's burning up, slowly but surely, and aching for the chance to combust; less because she doesn't understand how he expects her to be coherent enough to continue their little game when he is making her feel _so_ much.

Her head has turned to the side in her body's futile attempt at weathering the sensual storm that is Matt Murdock when she takes in a deep breath. Her brain registers his scent in the sheets she is resting her cheek against.

“I smell you in the sheets- the faint scent of your cologne, but also your … manly musk-”

She is glad for once this evening that she can’t see his expression because that didn't come out at all the way she intended it to. “Oh, god- sorry. That … that sounded a lot better in my head.”

Even though she is doing her best at mumbling into the sheets, she can hear the sheepishness in her tone and then feels doubly silly because It is probably 10 times louder and more obvious to him, along with all of the other giveaways in her skin temperature, her heart beat, her breathing patterns.

It suddenly occurs to her that she is here, in this bed, not just with handsome, sweet, loving Matthew Murdock but also with Daredevil himself - the dangerous, sexy, ass-kicking Adonis who can catch criminals blocks away by doing little more than tracking the sound of a conversation inside of a car and can dodge bullets by feeling their air velocity or smelling the gunpowder scent they leave behind. With that her thoughts take a sharp turn into terrible.

She starts to worry that this was not a good idea at all. She is overwhelmed with questions she doesn't actually want answers for. What if that she isn't doing it right, or not well enough? Can he tell that she has no clue what she's even doing? Is he going to lose interest? Should she even be lying here in the first place? What was she thinking by agreeing to this?

But, ever attentive, he notices the change in her during the split second it has taken for her to think all this, and he comes to her rescue. Again (though no mask is required this time).

She feels his fingers clasp around her jaw and he gently turns her face back up, out from her makeshift hiding place.

“Hey, what's wrong? You're doing great. You don't have to worry or second guess yourself- you aren't going to disappoint me. How could you? Karen, you're gorgeous and sexy and sweet. I’m just glad to be here with you. What are you worrying about?”

She gives a minute shake of her head, incredulous at how effortlessly he flatters her, reassures her, and seduces her all at once. “God, how the hell do you do that?!”

“What do you mean?” The question actually sounds sincere, so much so that it almost hurts, and she is flabbergasted again, reminded of how amazing this man truly is.

“I mean, you make it seem so easy! Every word that comes out of your mouth is sexy and perfect. You really are the ‘Devil’, aren't you?” Her voice is laced with mock disgust, and it makes him smirk. He brings her hand up to his face so she can feel it.

“Well, ‘Devil’ or not, I am a lawyer, Ms. Page. And we're often known to be silver tongued.” He has always had a sense of humor- it was one of the first things about him to which she was attracted (... in addition to him looking like he does) and he uses it to great advantage now as he swiftly closes his lips around her nipple and circles it with his tongue.

“Shit, Matt!” She arches into him and he wraps his arms around her waist to hold her in place as he repeats his actions with her other nipple. He peppers kisses across her chest as he continues.

“I didn’t suggest this to make you get stuck inside your own head or start doubting yourself.”

She feels him lower her back down and move to gather her hands in his again, but the sweetness that she anticipates will follow doesn't come. This time she feels him guide her hands until they are stretched straight out from her sides, then slides his hands down to circle her wrists.

“I happen to know what it's like when something amazing and overwhelming is happening to your body- but your mind starts racing, outpacing the sensations, and all of the sudden you lose the moment and disengage from your body.”

Her breath catches and her heart skips a beat as he drags both wrists all the way up above her head and holds them there. The slide of her skin across the silk helps bring her focus back to her body, to Matt and the glorious torture he has been exacting on her.

“But I'm right here. I've got you. And this time I'm asking you to stay with me in this moment, right here and right now.”

He loosens his grip on her wrists enough to shift them both to his left hand, and lightly trails his right down the inside of her arm at an achingly slow pace.

“Nothing else exists except you and me, in this bed. Feel me and all that I want to do for you, and allow yourself to experience every single sensation. Without thought, without reservation. Let me be your anchor.”

The pressure he applies to her wrists as he says this is just enough to make her marvel at his strength, and the flicker of fear that runs unbidden up her spine at the realization that he could overpower her so effortlessly along with the knowledge that he never would is the spark that sets the smoldering tinder of her desire ablaze once again.

He must sense it, because he's suddenly all over her- tracing patterns on her hip bone, nibbling on her earlobe, and holding her hands firmly against the reflexive squirming she makes in response to the way he is suddenly assaulting her senses.

“I know it can be a lot, but there's no rush. We can go slow, as slow as you like. And I promise- I'll be with you every step of the way. I won't let you go. Okay? Trust me?"

Being the good lawyer he is, the argument is sound and she is helpless to do anything other than nod and say a quiet “yes.”

He places a soft kiss to her cheek before sliding his mouth to hers. But this time as he kisses her, he takes her bottom lip between her teeth, still sweet and gentle, but indicative of the razor edge of passion on which they are dancing. His firm grip on her wrists reminds her of this too. The tension he uses to hold her there helps her to stay grounded, helping her to focus- a focal point from which to take a mental inventory of her senses.

When he pulls away and buries his nose in the hair at her temple, she is ready for him this time.

“Now, where were we? Oh, yes- you were telling me about my ‘manly musk’. Please, continue.”

She smirks at him as though accepting his challenge. This time she is no longer restrained by her modesty or self-consciousness. Her sole purpose is to be in the moment and to ensure that they are both enjoying themselves, and she commits to this cause with her trademark enthusiasm.

She turns her head into his where he is still kissing her temple, and inhales deeply, taking a big breath of him in. She hums as she parses the scent.

“I smell… hints of leather, a bit of sweat. From your time in the suit earlier, I'm guessing.”

“Good guess. What else are your senses telling you?”

She stills, directing all of her energy to focusing, and it's so _endearing_ that he has to kiss her neck again to stifle the chuckle that is threatening to escape. She sighs at the feeling of his lips and teeth connecting with her skin. And since that is where he has drawn her focus, that's what she decides to tell him about next.

“Mhhhm. Your mouth is hot and and your tongue is wet against my skin. I can feel the ridges of your teeth as they scrape down the column of my neck and the texture of the taste buds on your tongue.”

Her voice is starting to tremble as he is continuing his ministrations, down her neck, down her chest, fast approaching her breasts, but she presses on. “I’ve got goosebumps all over from all the teasing and anticipation.”

He laughs deviously, and right on cue, he lifts his head before he reaches her breasts. He intentionally hovers above one as he exhales, however, his breath fanning over her nipple and intensifying the aforementioned goosebumps.

“Oh goddammit, Matt! Fuck!” She hisses it at him, more out of frustration than true indignation.

He chuckles in spite of himself and trails his nose up her sternum, landing at her mouth and biting her lip with more force this time.

“Such language, Ms. Page. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” The humor in his voice belies his displeasure, as does the kiss he gives her as he speaks against her lips. (The irony of this gesture isn’t lost on her, though it's not currently within her to comment on it.)

“No, but I'll show you what else I can do with it. It's just as blasphemous, but so much more fun.”

The way he grunts in response is exactly the response she was hoping for, as is the way that he presses her wrists into the mattress a little harder.

“That sounds very exciting, and I'll have to take you up on it later, but you're still not done. I'm not letting you off the hook yet.”

She isn't proud of the whine that slips out of her then, but it expresses her point without the words she is struggling to form, and he seems to get the message regardless.

“But, I suppose that I haven't been playing fair, what with all of the teasing.” He has taken one of her breasts in his hand, palming it and gently pinching the nipple as a show of his apology. The shuddering sigh of relief that she lets out causes his own patience to grow a little thinner.

“So, let's continue. The sooner we do, the sooner you'll get what you really want. Now tell me- what are you feeling? Internally.”

She scrunches her nose in confusion. “Internally? I thought I was trying to stay in the moment and focus on sensations.”

“Yes, that's what I asked of you. But _aren't_ there currently some sensations that are happening for you internally?”

The slow slide of his fingers down her sternum to her navel, and the kiss that he presses just beneath is giving her some serious sensations to consider.

She was surprised by this question at first but quickly realizes that there are plenty of sensations going on internally that she normally just attributed to feeling _really_ good. Sensations which she had never taken the time (or, more exactly, had never been forced to make the time) to dissect and experience individually. Leave it to Matt Murdock to continue blowing her mind with his unique perspective and way of experiencing life, even (and especially), when in bed with her.

Though her eyes are covered, she tilts her head up as though to look him in the eyes, using the other sensory input that she has to guess the angle at which he currently holds his head. He's more than a little proud when she gets it just about right.

“You are the most amazing man I've ever met.” There is a softness underscoring the desire, a reverence to her tone as she says it that catches him completely off guard. The thought of it wraps around his heart, making him feel more warm and full and hopeful than he has with just about anyone, ever.

He is a bit glad that she can't see his expression right now because he is sure that it is the definition of a dopey, lovey-dovey grin, and as sweet as it is, he's still a little unsure about how their relationship is progressing. He fears that it might be a little too soon for something like that. But hopefully not for too much longer...

He remembers that he has to respond to her, and decides that he is finally going to stop teasing her. Or rather, he will keep teasing her but will continue on until she is more worked up than she's ever been in order to make her come harder than she ever has before.

“That's sweet. But I bet you're only saying that because I’m holding you down on my bed while you're naked, blindfolded, and trembling.” The way that he lowers his voice, virtually growling by the end does marvelous things to her insides. And now that she is paying attention, she can feel it all- as if the words are sinking into her skin, into her veins, into her core. She can feel them blazing a trail of fire that leads right between her legs and pulls the knot of tension low in her abdomen tighter and tighter. And, oh, but she's getting so close to burning up from the inside out.

But she doesn't think on it for too long, because the way that he starts to walk the fingers of his free hand up the inside of her thigh with a ghost-like touch is doing nothing to temper the fire while simultaneously short-circuiting her ability to think.

“What do you feel, Karen? Tell me. Be specific. I'll get you there, I promise, but you've got to tell me what's happening and how it's making you feel.”

She had thought that he was asking the impossible of her initially- but she finds that was nothing compared to this. She is dedicated to the outcome, though, and so she focuses all of her conscious energy on the desire that’s burning within her.

“Oh, I feel so good, Matt. So good.”

“Mmhhhmm. Tell me how good.”

He has trailed his fingers higher and higher, and now they are tickling the crease at apex of her thigh, moving up along her hip bone. He listens to the erratic pattern of her breathing as he goes, trying to time his movements just as her breathing begins to even out.

She does her best to answer him, shuddering breaths and gasps interspersed between her words as she speaks.

“So good. So warm and bright, like I'm made up of nothing but sunlight. Like every single nerve in my body is on fire. Like I'm just about to ignite.”

He has to close his eyes and pace his breathing to keep himself from losing his own focus as her voice starts to quaver.

“You will, I promise you will. Soon. But tell me- what do you want?”

She starts writhing beneath his hands as soon as he asks her, all of her thoughts coming out of her mouth automatically and in a voice so full of need, that he is almost panting just listening to her.

“You. Oh God, I want you so badly, Matt. I'm aching for you. And I'm trembling, like I'm going to come out of skin if you don't touch me.”

Her hips buck up into his at this, and he groans in satisfaction before he presses her hip down into the bed with his free hand, holding her in a firm grip just as he continues to hold her hands. He leans down and kisses her breasts, gently biting her nipples and all the while still holding her down against her body's instinctive attempts to squirm out of his grip.

“What else? What else do you need, Karen? Anything- just tell me.”

“Oh God. Touch me, Matt, please! Please. Touch me!”

He feels his own temperature rising, taking his pulse with it until the speed and rhythm of it match hers. He loosens his grip on her hip, trailing his fingertips down, down, down until he meets the warm, soft flesh of her labia. This immediately sends her gasping and bucking into his hand.

“God, yes! Fucking finally! Oh, fuck, Matt. I'm so hot. Do you feel it? I'm burning up. And I'm so wet. Oh God, Matt.”

He chokes back a sob of want by taking as much of her breast into his mouth as he can. She arches beneath him, gasping and moaning in earnest.

“Oh Karen you're doing so well. And you're so beautiful, hanging by a thread and feeling everything. Tell me- how close are you?”

“Almost there. Almost- ahhhh. Yes. God.”

He slides his finger down her labia as she says it, slipping into her in one quick motion. She loses the ability to think, all higher functions replaced solely by the desire to roll her hips into his hand.

The slick slide of his finger in her, so warm and soft and wet has him moaning into her chest. He sucks in a deep breath to settle his own senses enough to speak.

“Yes, that's my girl. Tell me- how close now?”

She forces herself to alternate slow grinding rolls of her hips against his hand with sharp bucking in an attempt to find the best and most pleasurable pattern. It also helps her to stay focused enough to respond to his question.

“Fuck, I’m right on the edge. It's like my whole body's stretched out. Taut like a bow string.”

He groans as he moves his thumb up to find her clit. When he finds it, he times the thrusts of his hand as rubs his thumb over her clit.

Her body reacts like a live wire, and it's an amazing experience for him to observe. She's always been beautiful to him, but now, like this- coming apart under his hands and opening herself up to him so completely has him focusing intently to regulate his breathing so that he, himself, can stay present enough to commit every detail, every sound, every sensation to memory.

He keeps a steady pace of his thrusting and rubbing, and soon she is shuddering and panting.

“God, you’re so beautiful, Karen. And you're almost done. So close, now. Tell me- what do you want?”

If operating at a higher level of her brain functioning, she would be able to comprehend what he's asking her. But right now, being so fucking close to the best orgasm in the history of the world, he might as well be asking her to explain quantum physics.

“I don’t- I don't know. More, please. I can’t-- Matt, please, I can't-”

“Shhh, Karen, I'm right here. I've got you. Remember to let yourself feel it all, even if it seems like it might be too much. It won't be. I'm right here. I've got you.”

He is back to pressing open mouthed kisses to her neck, speaking the words into her skin.

He slips two other fingers inside her and is still lavishing attention on her clit with a level of finesse she had thought only existed in fantasy. She doesn't think she can manage to breathe, and he hears her gasping, so he quietly coaches her to breathe through it all- reminding her to exhale, inhale, exhale. He gently encourages her to lean into the sensations, into everything she's feeling, and she fights him for a moment before exhaling a shuddering moan.

“Oh God- I'm close. _So_ close.”

He has never been so hard in his life, watching her ignite and blaze so brightly- like a star going supernova.

“That's my girl. Yes, feel it all. Don't fight it. What do need? Tell me and it's yours.”

It takes a herculean effort, but she is trying so hard to say the words. She rolls her hips up sharply, this time brushing against him, hard and hot against his stomach. The sound of him cursing under his breath and softly pleading her name in her ear is all the motivation that she needs.

“Inside, please. Oh Matt, please. I need you. _Please_.”

He has never been one to command such pleading and begging from his bed partners, but coming from her lips, it's the sweetest sound he's ever heard. He thinks he wants to hear it every day. And there's no way he can deny her now.

He straddles her, lining up with her body, and leans his forehead to hers as he gently pushes himself into her. The cry she lets out as he hilts in her is full of pleasure and relief, the shaky quality telling her how very close she is.

He helps her along and starts increasing his pace as he teases her one last time.

“Oh, Karen, fuck. You're so warm and soft, so wet and tight for me. Tell me- tell me what you feel.”

She arches into him, bucking her hips in tandem with his and moans her response as much as she speaks it.

“Oh, god- fuck! Yes! So full. Getting tighter. Almost there.”

The sounds she's making are so alluring and gorgeous, just as beautiful as all of his favorite hymns. Maybe more so.

He knows she's right on the edge but is missing one little thing before she can come apart. He reaches down between their bodies to find her clit again, and when he rubs his finger over it, he feels her whole body tense. She is panting and gasping and the words coming out her mouth mean almost nothing. The way she is bucking her hips into his, chasing her climax with wild abandon, she doesn't have any extra brain space to think about words. She's able to get enough of her point across, though, and after a minute or two of him thrusting into her while he rubs her clit in exactly the right way, she is right on the precipice. And with one final flick of his wrist and a moan of his own pleasure in her ear, she is cresting the wave before being sucked under by it.

“Yes. Oh god. Fuck, Matt, _right_ there. Yes! Don't stop. Yes, Matt. Oh- oh, Matt!”

He feels her tense one last time before she is vibrating in exquisite free fall, helplessly thrashing against him as her nervous system shorts out and she relaxes into stillness. He moves with her through it all, guiding her and accompanying her over the edge with one final moan of her name. If she were still in her body, she would hear the reverence in his voice, the way he utters her name more like a benediction than an as an exclamation of pleasure, but she isn't, so she doesn't. Maybe that's for the best in this moment. Until they talk more about what they are in concrete terms, at least. And after that, he’ll just have to do it again. But next time, he'll do it right before she's lost to ecstasy. Next time. What a beautiful thought.

After she comes back down from the heavens and re-enters the mortal plane, her first coherent thought is to thank the universe plus any and all higher beings within it for the remarkable man lying next to her. As she continues to comes back into her body, she reacquaints herself with the feeling of the silk sheets beneath her and his solid presence beside her. She reaches to remove the blindfold, and something else occurs to her as she does. She turns on her side, snuggling into his chest, his arm wrapping around her back instinctively and holding her to him firmly before she asks him about it. She is a little embarrassed to be asking, so she intentionally hides her face in his chest.

“So, I'm gonna guess that you’ve done that before, haven't you?”

He quirks his eyebrows in surprise. “Well, I have had a little practice. I thought you knew that, or at least suspected. I hope that's not a problem-”

“No- I mean, you've seduced a girl with the blindfold before, using the whole ‘blind thing’.”

She means nothing malicious by it, he can tell by the steady drum of her heart and the lack of an accusation in her tone. But he still prickles a bit at the question. He is glad she can't she his face right now, though she probably felt him tense a little. But she makes no remark about, patiently waiting for his answer.

“Well, yes, I have used the blindfold with women before to a … mutually beneficial end. I already had it before tonight, after all. But it's not exactly what you might think. It wasn't even my idea the first few times I used it. And it hasn't happened as often as you might imagine. Yes, it's exciting and alluring, but it requires a certain level of trust and a willingness to cede control. Not everyone is capable of or interested in doing that.”

She flushes at this, though not out of embarrassment. This time it is out of recognition. She hadn't realized until just now how much trust it had taken for her to agree and to let him drive, believing that he would take care of her the whole way. She is struck suddenly by the feeling that though he may be blind, he continues to be able to see right through her. He senses her shift in mood and draws her in closer, slowly rubbing his hand up and down her spine to relax her as he continues.

“But for all the other times that it's happened, it's never been like this. Not once. I’ve blindfolded a woman before, but I've never been able to share the experience of my all of senses with someone else while using the blindfold, and I've never had anyone else invite me into her experience like that. It's never been this… _intimate_ before.”

She closes her eyes, her eyelashes tickling his chest, and breathes deep to ride out the wave of hope and joy and absolute adoration that surges up in her chest as his words. She had hoped so fervently that one day they might be able to get to this place, and if not for the fact that she is still pretty agnostic, she might just believe that heaven exists. And if it does and it's anything like what she's experiencing right now, she just might have to give the concept a second chance. Because she could get used to this.

She can't hold back the joyful laugh that follows such a delightful idea. She pulls back enough to move up and face him, touching their foreheads together and taking one of his hands, threading their fingers together.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Murdock. All this time I thought you were an unabashed Casanova, but it turns out you're actually a hopeless romantic.”

The grin he gives her in response is so happy that she can't help but mirror it.

“Well, consider this my apology. Not just for that but for everything I've been... holding out on.”

She chuckles softly and bites her lip, a devious lilt in her voice.

"Well, apology accepted... as long as we can do this again."

She takes the blindfold in her hand and drapes it over his shoulder as she speaks.

He fixes her with a look equal parts devotion and danger, promising delectable things without saying one word.

"I think we can manage it."


End file.
